


Neither Half Nor Whole

by yuletide_archivist



Category: Alexander Trilogy - Mary Renault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-21
Updated: 2005-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-25 03:10:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1628447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So Hephaistions slips out of his chiton and hopes the oil lamp sputters when he kneels, so Alexander will not know of Hephaistion's need and Hephaistion's weakness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Neither Half Nor Whole

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Cori Lannam

 

 

Neither Half Nor Whole

Winter has come to Mieza from the north, bringing snow and the bitterness of frozen dawns. Helios is slow to rise and quick to sleep, and the youths feel the same lethargy and the same need to burrow for warmth.

Aristotle sends them out into the gardens each morning with the admonition that they are not animals but men, and that they will have to fill their bellies with what they trap in the forest. Birds chose flight, he says, and deer are swift among the trees, but some pick the gift of Morpheus to live through winter. There is virtue in each, he adds, but men are not given the chance to decide for themselves. Yet they must learn from the birds of the coming of the cold, and they must learn to outrun the deer. There is merit in cautiousness, but men are not snakes and cannot hide under rocks and wait for winter to be over.

When the youths are tired of their sport, he shows them the tunnels of foxes and the way the buds on the branches curl upon themselves to wait for spring. When the youths get restless, he moves the lessons to the kitchens and tells them of the herbs in their meat. Aristotle knows how to settle them and how to rouse them, and when the dusk falls across the hills he sends them to their bedding and their friends.

It is there that Hephaistion finds Alexander, naked under his mother's furs. The oil lamp is burning, and the air smells like olives and the sweet hippocras in Alexander's cup, and Hephaistion thinks of Alexander's mouth and the sweat on Alexander's neck when they wrestle. There is a scroll open on the ground beside Alexander and he's thumbing it in concentration, brows furrowed.

Hephaistion says, "here you are" and Alexander's golden head lifts from the parchment to look at him. Alexander's eyes flicker, but it is nothing but the flame and the shadows. When Hephaistion smiles, Alexander smiles back.

"May I read to you?" he says, while shifting his weight to one elbow to better face Hephaistion.

Hephaistion plucks the brooch from his shoulder and folds his cape, stifling a yawn. "Of course," he says, and smiles again. How can I refuse you, he thinks, and loosens his belt. The air might be sweet but it bites like fire on his skin, and Hephaistion shivers.

"Come here, then, and listen." Alexander shifts under the furs and the blankets, pushes them aside to make a nest for Hephaistion. Alexander allows himself this, this cocoon of heat and limbs in the dark of winter, and some days Hephaistion breathes only to hope the seasons will not change and Demeter will not leave her husband for her mother's arms.

So Hephaistions slips out of his chiton and hopes the oil lamp sputters when he kneels, so Alexander will not know of Hephaistion's need and Hephaistion's weakness.

The furs are soft yet Alexander's skin is softer, and Hephaistion makes a pillow of of Alexander's shoulder. Hephaiston lies on his back and feels each breath beneath him, and the gentle canter of Alexander's heart.

The scroll is forgotten by their heads and Alexander runs his fingers up Hephaistion's arm, inside Hephaistion's elbow, up to Hephaistion's armpit and the hair there. Alexander's exhale is breeze and sunlight over Hephaistion's forehead and they both still to watch the light tremble at the edges of darkness.

"Go on, Alexander," Hephaistion says, finally, when the fire in his belly has turned to embers and a welcome promise.

"I was reading Plato," Alexander says, with something like hesitation. "Aristotle lent me one of his, until the road for Athens clears and I can have them send me more books."

There are voices coming from the hall, and hurried footsteps. Hephaistion is silent, and Alexander makes his voice a whisper by Hephaistion's ear.

"He speaks of Agathon, too. Agathon in Athens." Alexander twists a little, lines his chest to Hephaistion's side. Hephaistion's arm is in the way but he does not know where he should put it, not with Alexander talking, not with Alexander soft against Hephaistion's hip.

"But what struck me, really, was his--" and Alexander moves closer, pushes his chest outwards, settles, "his boldness. He says Aeschylus is wrong."

"Do you think so?" Hephaistion answers, thinks, and his heart trips.

"Of course, that's just a play." Alexander drags his hand over Hephaistion's belly, and the warmth of the furs swells into the dog days of summer. Alexander's wrist is damp with sweat, and sticky. "Over Patroclus's pire, Achilles was weeping."

"He was."

Alexander nods, once. His curls ripple, and Hephaistion feels them stroke his cheek.

"Plato writes `nevertheless he gave his life to avenge his friend,'" and Alexander's voice takes on the lilt of recitation, "`and dared to die, not only in his defence,'" and Alexander's voice drops, gets deeper, throbs somewhere at Hephaistion's shoulder. "`But after he was dead.' Achilles chooses to die in sacrifice, to die as a beloved for his lover."

"Yes," and Hephaistion turns his head, and looks Alexander in the eyes.

"But that was just a part of it," he says, with eyes half mast in the lamp light. "There is no dishonor in giving in sacrifice, Hephaistion."

Hephaistion inhales, and it's air that comes from Alexander's breath against his mouth.

"He was king, and he chose to."  
So Hephaistion says, "Alexander," and Alexander's lips open like soft, ripe fruit, and before Hephaistion tastes them he says it again, "Alexander," and it's a whisper and a groan.

"It shames me, Alexander," and Hephaistion licks at Alexander's mouth, licks again when Alexander makes a noise, quiet and tense, "it shames me to want you so."

Alexander pulls back and his next breath whistles low between his teeth. "No," and Alexander pushes his hand down, from Hephaistion's belly to his cock. "Hephaistion--" Alexander says while he strokes, "you are mine, and it is my proof to you."

"Alexander, oh," and Hephaistion knows this is not the time for gratitude or love, but Alexander burns like their shields in the summer sun and he's kissing Hephaistion, and Hephaistion hesitates before pushing Alexander down, before nestling between Alexander's thighs.

The kiss doesn't break, and Alexander's arms go up, curl around Hephaistion's shoulders and Alexander's fingers burrow in Hephaistion's hair. It is easy to thrust, easier still to slip down and grind. It makes Alexander cry out, and it's Hephaistion's name, his name broken into breathy syllables, and Hephaistion knows he will one day take Alexander, just like this, in the dark.

But Alexander's willing enough, almost eager, when he arches his back and holds his thigh to Hephaistion's waist. Alexander's hard, and when Hephaistion holds them together and puts all his weight behind his hips Alexander strains for Hephaistion's mouth.

Hephaistion says, "yours," and moans. He says, "always," and Alexander shudders hard. His eyes are firebrands in shadows, they are Mars climbing the horizon, they are wonder and they are the end of everything. Hephaistion chokes and he doesn't know if it's tears or sweat on his face, but Alexander smiles and bites his own lip, hard.

When Hephaistion kisses Alexander he licks at Alexander's teeth. Hephaistion savours the heartbeats of darkness before his climax, before Alexander's arms slip from his shoulders to his waist.

Alexander says, "lover," and kisses Hephaistion's jaw. Hephaistion stretches, offers Alexander his neck, bears down to blow out the oil lamp.

Then there is nothing but the thickness of the dark, and the cold air on their cheeks, the cold air on their lips. Alexander nuzzles at Hephaistion's neck, he wets it with his tongue, and Hephaistion whispers, "beloved."

\------

"Now consider the story about lovers seeking their other half. I would say that they seek neither a half nor a whole unless it is also good. In fact, people will cut off their own hands and feet if they think they are diseased. They do not love things because they are their own but because they are good, just as they dislike things not because they belong to someone else but because they are bad -- what they really love is the good." -- Plato, Symposium.

"Nevertheless he gave his life to revenge his friend, and dared to die, not only in his defence, but after he was dead." - Plato, Symposium.

 

 

 


End file.
